A Moment of Memories & Comfort
by FaerieBreath
Summary: A series of snippets illuminating moments of tenderness between Catherine and Henry throughout their relationship. Each scenario has been built and contained so that it could fit within the canon of the show, but is not at this point in chronological order. *Thank you all for your support! At least for now this is done...but if you have any new ideas pass them on, and who knows...*
1. In the Cold and the Dark of the Night

Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

Henry was tired.

Tired of politics, tired of things not going his way, and tired of fighting.

After his encounter with Catherine this afternoon, he spent some time thinking of their early years of marriage. Years not yet tainted by Catherine's fretting over their lack of an heir, or his resulting loneliness and wandering eyes.

She was his true achilles heel and had seen him at his lowest as well as his most triumphant. Even after their marriage had disintegrated into a series of spats, Diane was never a guaranteed constant with all her trips to Paris…Catherine was. Ever the consummate Queen she made sure that all of her her duties, as a figurehead for France and as his other half, were taken care of no matter her own personal feelings.

As he finished going through his reports from the day, Henry sighed at the current state of his life. That a teenage girl had so thoroughly turned his once…mostly orderly life on end was almost unfathomable. The fact that she had managed to catch Catherine in her web as well was as amusing as it was impressive.

He knew, no matter how the next few days would go, that dethroning Catherine would be by no means an easy feat…if he was even forced to go that far.

Deciding to take a walk before attempting to settle in for the night, he made his way out the door and decided to stop by his room for a warmer cloak knowing that the corridors would be chilly. Starting off at random, he ended up near the tower…chuckling to himself as he acknowledged that his wife had always called to him like no other.

In the quiet of the evening, and with no celebrations planned, the Castle was impressively still. As he neared the tower he heard whimpering cries coming from within and recognized them…their sound and their probable cause.

When he and Catherine still spent the night together he would sometimes wake up to her crying, caught in a nightmare from her past. He had become sufficiently capable of drawing her out of these dreams, though he hadn't done so in many years.

Feeling a sense on compassion in the wake of recent events and his own contemplations he continued on to his wife's current living quarters with the intent of pulling her from the clutches of her demons.

Taking a moment to peer through the small window, Henry immediately realized the reason for the return of her night terror. Not only was the tower frigid but everything had been removed, everything but a cot and a chamber pot. Catherine was nothing if not a creature of comfort, but he knew there was a reason for that. Her time in Florence had left her scarred, and the cold dank nature of the tower without all of her rugs and tapestries were the cause of this particular rendition from her past.

Shaking his head as he could only imagine the her reaction, seen and unseen, when Mary must have ordered them all removed. Although he had left soon after banishing her to the tower, he had received the requests for her various accommodations and allowed them for this very reason.

They had both taken their shots at each other, but he really wasn't a cruel man.

Nodding at the guard to let him in, he was given a quiet warning before he waved the guard off and faced Catherine and her demons alone.

Taking a moment to look around he sighed in relief when he found Catherine still asleep and on the cot. Drawing her out when she was partially awake but still lost in the memories was innumerably harder.

Walking quietly over to the cot, he made ready to pick her up quickly and efficiently. He had to be just one step ahead of her unconscious mind or he'd wind up with quite a few bruises and scratches before she came back to herself.

Scooping her up and sitting back down on the cot he held firmly onto his wife making sure not to breath direct on her and to keep her limbs as immobile as possible.

As she struggled and mumbled even more in Italian, almost causing him to lose his grip, he helped her to ride out her unseen foe and waited for her to return to consciousness. Slowly her struggles lessened and her cries turned into whimpers, then into light sobs.

He had hoped that though it had been many years she would remember the way he used to hold her like this. To his knowledge she had never shared even a fraction of what she had endured in Florence with anyone else, and so he had been only one to ever ride out these episodes with even the limited knowledge that he had.

Eventually her breathing calmed and she became almost completely still, at least until she began to speak.

"Henry?"

"Yes Catherine, its me."

"I…you…I mean I don't…you can release me now."

Chuckling internally at the loss of her usual eloquence, he slowly released his grip so that he was still cradling her but far more gently. Instead he settled her into a more upright position, tucking her head into his neck.

"And why shouldn't I give my wife comfort in her time of need?"

"That's what you're going with?" she half asked, half scoffed in her embarrassment.

"You never were very good at letting others take care of you, were you?" Shifting so one hand now circled her shoulders, and one her back, he continued. "I suppose the only way I ever got this far is because I would always catch you unawares."

Huffing at the truth in his statement, she tried to pull away further and he let her, dropping both hands to her waist.

"After everything, I didn't think you even cared anymore, Henry."

"Oh I care Catherine, sometimes its just so hard…there is so much history that I don't even know where to start." Combing his fingers through her hair he continued, "You are a master at deception, you always have been…except in these times."

"Yes well, I will have to make a note of that for future reference…though I doubt it will do much good given the current path that you and Mary have planned for my future."

Sighing at the reminder of the very real, very pressing problem of the Scottish Queen's demands.

"Well, I can only deconstruct one nightmare at a time…you were the only one ever good at multitasking."

Chuckling to herself despite the current situation, "Well you can include that that on my headstone."

Sighing, he brought her close again, confounded by both her mild manner and the dilemma of the two very stubborn Queens which lately had dominated his waking hours.

As she relaxed into him, her body shivered from the cold temperature and the few layers she still had on.

Realizing she was dressed only in her chemise and her softer undergarments due to the uncomfortable nature of her daywear, he decided to make the most of what may have been some of his last moments with her.

Urging her to move next to him, he began to remove his boots and belt.

"Henry," she sighed, "what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I am doing my dear?"

"Henry, even if we were…more than we were, there is barely enough room for me in this cot," she finished with a disapproving note in her voice.

"Well then I guess we will have to stay close and hold on to one another," he replied smirking at her.

Removing his cloak and laying it on top of the cot like a blanket, he got in and settled at the far edge beckoning her to join him.

After a moment of hesitation and a huff of annoyance she did, initially laying on her back and staring at the ceiling before the warmth offered by the nearness of his body overtook her annoyance and she willingly curled into his body.

He responded by cradling her in his arms and encouraging her to move even closer.

This was the second time in one day that he had been able to hold her like this, and he missed it.

Finally allowing himself to relax, he gently kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes. His dreams that night were filled with golden curls and hazel eyes…his beautiful, fiery, Florentine bride returned to him, even if only for a night.


	2. In the Aftermath of Penelope

Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

Henry held onto Catherine like a lifeline, kneeling before for once in his life.

He needed her, a novel thought.

He hadn't been right for quite some time…what had been thinking letting that kitchen wench take so much of his time?

Kneeling down, Catherine embraced her husband and cradled his head to her chest. She had been a bit dramatic to make her point and oust that impostor, but as she held her wayward King and felt him trembling against her, she was reminded that there was in fact something very wrong this time.

This wouldn't be the first time she'd had to rescued him from one of his ill planned schemes…usually involving a woman. To be fair though he hadn't been fully in control of his faculties for several weeks now, and his current state only served to solidify that.

"Come Henry, lets get you straightened out," Catherine in the low soothing voice she'd perfected over the last fifteen years as a mother.

Standing as she urged him to as well, she began to lead him over to his bed when he pulled away almost violently.

"No! I can't, I won't, there's too much…"

Catherine walked to him and reclaimed his hands, several feet from the bed, "Henry's it's only a bed, the girl and her un-holy influence…"

"No, it not just her I'm…Catherine I think I'm damaged somehow. How could I have let her…please, please let me stay with you for a while."

"Henry I…"

"Catherine you are my light, my guiding light. When I am with you I can see clearly!"

"Henry I don't think…"

"Catherine I couldn't, I wouldn't…not after what I was just about to let her do. I just…please.

The look in his eye, the pitiful, lost look in his eye gave her pause. He had only ever been this way with her once before, a long time ago. Needly, pleading, frightened, three words that she would never readily associate with her husband, but her he was and she along with him. "Alright Henry, you may come to my chambers and rest for just a little while."

Deciding to push her advantage just a little further, she continued, "I would also like to have Nostradamus take a look at you. He is after all familiar with not only healing and medicines, but pagan rituals and rites so that he should be able discern if there is anything…more."

"Yes Catherine, please just help me!"

If she wasn't so worried for him she would have been ridiculously pleased. But she was, and at this point she wasn't even certain that Nostradamus would be able to help.

As they left his room and headed for hers, Catherine sent a guard to direct Nostradamus to her rooms while she escorted the King there herself. He was leaning on her slightly, but she was in no way carrying him…she couldn't have if he'd needed that much support.

When they finally got to her rooms, Catherine led him over to her love seat and urged him to sit. She tried to pull away to set her ladies in motion but he clung to her one hand like a lifeline. Nodding in his general direction she called one of her ladies over and instructed her to ready a bath, fetch some sleepwear and a change of clothes for the King, then turn down the covers on her bed.

Curtsying before she went on her way, Catherine turned all of her attention back to her husband who was staring down at his hands, looking very lost.

Not truly knowing what to say she just clasped the hand that had held hers so tightly between her own and waited with him while her requests were put into motion.

She allowed herself to get lost in her thoughts for a moment to consider what to do now.

In her scheming, she had never considered this possibility, but here they were.

She decided that as long as she could encourage Henry to get proper care, that she would stay with him…and perhaps even allow him to stay with her for a while.

She cold only remember one other time she had seen him like this. It was following his brother's death and he had looked…haunted.

Then too he had relied on her, although it was less of a conscious choice than it was an allowance for the sake of convenience. Like Catherine, Henry was very independent and never liked to rely on anyone.

Barring the funeral rites and a few meals for which she managed to coax him down, Henry had become almost catatonic for several days. Neither his friends nor his father could rouse him, but with her he stayed in almost constant physical contact. Clinging to her at night, sitting near or holding her during the day. She had become his connection with reality…as she was now.

Once her lady indicated that his bath was ready, she urged him up and over to the tub. She helped him remove his clothes and step in, then motioned her ladies to bring over a chair and held his hand as she let the hot water calm his nerves.

He did his best to wash himself, but cold not quite get all of his face or his back.

Taking the sponge from him, she finished the task taking just a bit of extra care and then retrieved a towel.

He stepped out of the tub and just stood there. She used the towel to begin easing the water droplets off of his skin like he was a child, too tired to even dry his own body. Finishing her task, she set the towel aside and drew his head down for a kiss on the forehead before gently directing him toward his clothes now resting on her bed.

He had begun to recover from his initial shock and so he was able to do that on his own, but then just stood by the side of the bed…still, almost lifeless.

Catherine meanwhile had moved around to her cabinet of potions and retrieved a sleep aid that would help him rest for at least a few hours, more if he really needed it once he had been looked at by Nostradamus. Returning to his side she found him dressed but still just standing and staring at the bed, she nudged him onward and he climbed in and under the covers.

She tucked him in and then sat on the side of the bed. As he stared out through her windows she returned to holding his hand, this time running her thumb across his knuckles in a soothing gesture.

Before long he had fallen asleep all on his own. He had not even stayed awake long enough for Nostradamus to arrive, so when he did she simply bade the seer to stay until the King woke up by his own accord.

Perhaps now they could figure out what had been causing the King's strange behavior.

In the meantime Catherine chose to enjoy the moment of quiet in their otherwise chaotic life.

There would come a time when this moment peace would be no more, just as his moment of trust in her would also end.

But Catherine never sought forever, for it bore too heavy a burden.

No for now Catherine would allow herself to be content, enclosed in this temporary bubble of tranquility where he was just a husband and she was just a wife, and she would watch over him to help keep his demons away.


	3. The Heart Revealed

Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

Henry woke several hours later and submitted to Nostradamus's examination. He was as brief as possible and the pliant demeanor of his patient only aided in his efforts.

Once done he recommended that Henry rest some more as he was still fairly shaken and withdrawn. After conferring with Catherine he agreed that the sleep aid she had originally taken out would be sufficient and left Henry in her very capable hands.

He had calmed significantly but was still out of sorts, so when he asked her to lie next to him she couldn't find it in herself to refuse him.

Making sure he had ingested the contents of the small vile, Catherine made her way over and climbed in on top of the covers. Thankfully her dress was not particularly restrictive and so she was able to comfortably settle herself at his side. For the second time today she found herself cradling his head as he innocently sought her comfort.

Or at least that had better be what this was. She was reasonably sure that Henry was genuinely shaken, but if she found out that this was some sort of game…

Once his breathing evened out and she was certain he had fallen asleep, she slowly extradited herself from his grasp and left him there to take care of a few things. She decided against leaving the room, after all she had already cleared her schedule in order to make sure that girl was well and truly gone by the end of the day. In addition, based on Henry's state before he had fallen asleep she did not really want to leave him on his own just yet.

She called in and sent out three of her ladies out to tie up the remaining loose ends from this latest…adventure.

Kenna was sent a message of reassurance that the King was well in hand and should be regaining his senses shortly.

The actor was given his final commission and reminded of the terms of their agreement…or rather the consequences of breaking the confidences he had been made privy to.

And Penelope, that annoyingly cunning child was sent a…reminder as to her true status inside the Castle walls and how short a leash she had been given regarding any further indiscretions.

Catherine really ought to receive a medal for all of the messes she managed to clean up for Henry so seamlessly.

Shaking her head at the thought she decided to have a light dinner sent up before she turned in…to her currently occupied bed.

Well, she supposed there were worse candidates to be forced to share a bed with.

Taking her time preparing for the evening, she first removed her jewelry before deciding on a particularly covering nightgown and robe. Eventually she got to work removing the remaining vestiges of Catherine de Medici, Queen of France from her face and hair.

It was not often that she permitted such an indulgence. The sheer lack of time in a day and the self reflection that it often prompted were reason enough to favor expediency over sentimentality.

Once she was more comfortably attired and her dinner had been delivered, she brought the tray over to the sitting area that looked out over the gardens and ate her evening meal.

She had already asked Mary and Francis to look after the younger children, not wanting to have to worry about that as well tonight. It was actually a rather rare occurrence for her to take her dinner alone. It was relaxing, if a bit odd.

Unfortunately the absence of all of her usual distractions also brought back some of her contemplations from earlier which had stared back at her rather unkindly through her vanity mirror. The stark reality of what had become her life, and what had become of the Florentine girl who finally found her place amongst the once foreign French court.

What she saw was depressing. Under the make-up, the jewels, the rich fabrics and the mask she had perfected over the years was nothing more than a girl-now woman, lonely and wanting to be loved. Wanting to have a place in this world to call her own, to feel a part of something that she valued. Once this Castle, her marriage, her role as mother had been enough. But she had become disillusioned by the first two many years ago, and the third…well at least her younger children did not hate her, yet.

Deciding that she had put herself through enough reflective flagellation for one evening she stood and walked to the unoccupied side of her bed. Even if Henry was not who he was, and in the state that he was, it was her bed and she would not be ousted from her own sleeping accommodations over this.

Getting in under the covers and sliding close enough that she could reach him, she extended a hand toward her sleeping husband and caressed his face with a feather like touch, and wondered at how exactly they had gotten themselves here.

Bolstered by the confidence that Nostradamus's potion would keep Henry submerged in slumber for at least several more hours, she leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. In that moment she was transported back in time to when they were young and still cared for one another, without the baggage they now painfully and often bitterly bore.

The years, their lives had not been kind to them. They both had been given tasks, and at times whole periods during their rule when the decisions they had been forced to make would never be reconcilable by their own consciences, though they had been necessary at the time.

Regardless of where she and God actually stood, she had come to value the moments of relief she found under the auspice and through the practice of confession. It was a sacrament which she had valued and practiced when she was young and still routinely…some would say religiously kept.

Some had called her hypocritically pious for keeping such a ritual, when she so clearly disregarded so much else of what the Church taught…she had given up remembering exactly which ones they were once she receive absolution for them. But it wasn't piety that kept her returning to those small enclosed set of boxes, it was out of need. A need to be relieved of the burden of her actions, the decisions that she felt needed to be made…even at the cost of her own soul.

So much for being through with her self reflection for the night.

She pulled away just as softly as she had approached and just stared at him for a while.

Knowing that he wouldn't mind, she draped one of his hands over the dip in her waist and laid her own hand on his heart before bidding him goodnight and falling asleep.

Tomorrow Henry might again be unrecognizable, even to her, but at least for tonight he was at peace…they both were.


	4. In the Wake of a Life Lost

Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

Anger…hurt…the pain of betrayal. Catherine could not decide which was worse.

Henry was still talking, trying to make his point but she had ceased to listen. She was tired of his excuses and about to say as much when suddenly the outside world ceased to exist in the wake of a sudden and excruciating pain. It radiated from her abdomen and almost caused her to collapse on the floor. Crying out she doubled over, barely hearing Henry call out to her before the pain overtook her senses entirely and she lost the strength to remain upright.

Henry ran to her side and hugged her limp form to his own. He shifted her so he could cradle her to his body and carry her to bed. He tried to make her as comfortable as he could, all thoughts of their recent spat forgotten. Henry wanted desperately to help his ailing wife who was crying softly as wave after wave of pain tore through her body. "Guards," he shouted, "get the court physician, the Queen has collapsed." Then as an afterthought, "and someone find Nostradamus!" He may not have believed the quack, but his wife certainly did, and at the moment she could use all of the comfort he was able to provide.

Returning his attention to Catherine, he realized that she must had regained her senses enough that she was not muttering to herself, "I was only a little late…I thought…I can't believe…no….no," she said, curling further into herself.

Returning to her side, Henry gently climbed on the bed next to her and began to stroke her face and hair, "Darling, whatever is wrong the physicians will help, we will fix this…"

"No, no…it will never be right, it is too small, too young, too…"

Her words became lost as her sobs overtook her and she buried her face in his chest.

-/-/-/-

Later Henry was momentarily stunned into silence as the the reason for his wife's distress was revealed…she had been pregnant but lost the baby, their baby that he had not even known existed.

Catherine and Henry were sitting on a lounge out on the balcony of her room when the word came in…Henry rose to receive the diagnosis, Catherine never moved an inch.

After listening to the recommendations of the physicians regarding her recovery, Henry had rejoined his wife who was curled up and resting in the corner of the lounge covered in a blanket from the waist down looking out over the Castle gardens, eyes rimmed red from crying, and staring out at nothing.

Henry sat partially at an angle with his head resting in one hand and his other resting gently across her ankles.

He made sure that all vestiges of her ordeal had been removed from the room, the rug, the sheets, the coverlet. Her lady's maids had also prepared a bath and a selection of food which they had laid out for the lone two occupants of the room, though neither had touched a thing.

Beyond that Henry was not sure what to do. He had reached the limits of his knowledge as to what to do when comforting someone for such a loss. He was grieving as well, but knew that his pain paled in comparison to Catherine's as she had been the one carrying the child.

She loved their children deeply, more than any royal he'd ever known. He knew this would scar her.

They sat there for hours…one having no inclination to move, the other not wanting to move away. Catherine had finally drifted off to sleep and Henry turned his full attention to watching her. His strong, fiery, beloved wife who now looked…pale and weak, two words he never would have associated with her before now.

Deciding that after all they had been through recently, that he would take on the primary care for his wife for the time being. Affairs of state would not simply vanish, but he had been acutely reminded of how much he still cared for her, and how precarious life could be. Perhaps this was his chance to show her what he felt…to fix them before it was too late.

He arranged for enough of her personal items to be moved into his rooms that she would be comfortable, relying on her ladies for the specifics, and made sure that every recommendation of the physicians was readily available for her. He also sent word that all of Diane's possessions should be removed to her own rooms for the duration of Catherine's stay. Once he felt certain that all of the arrangements were to his satisfaction he picked her up gently and carried her to his rooms where he hoped she would agree to spend at least the next few days, if not longer.

She began to awake once along the way, but he was able to coax her back to sleep…a true testament to the toll that the afternoon had taken on her. Once they arrived he placed her gently on his bed, already turned down as per his instructions, and tucked her in.

Making one last sweep of the room to make sure his orders had been followed to the letter, he checked in with her ladies and finally made to retire for the night and join her in bed.

Slowly he gathered her in his arms and cradled her to his chest like the precious gift that she was.

He couldn't guarantee that he could protect her from all of life's troubles, or even from his tendency for his eyes and heart to wander, but for the moment he could protect her from the fallout from this…or at least be there to catch her when she fell.

Seeing the blood earlier was a stark reminder for him that though his wife could be as tough as a wolf on the hunt or as feisty as a wild stallion, she was still flesh and blood and by no means invincible.

She bled in flesh and in soul just like he did, and he had been the one to cause far too many wounds over the years.

It was time to help her heal as best he could, to remind her how precious she really was, even when he was too pig headed to show her himself.


	5. The Gift of Compassion amidst the Chaos

Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

Catherine woke up to heat and pain, and a pillow that moved.

Deciding that she was not ready to face the day just yet she tried to recall the events that brought her into her current circumstance. It only took her abdomen pulsating once for everything to come flooding back.

What she was not quite piecing together was where she was and who she was sleeping on. The sun was coming in on the wrong side of the room so she knew she was not in her own bed, nor in the infirmary. And based on the muscular planes of the person't chest it must have been man, but that could only mean Henry and that made even less sense.

He hadn't coddled like this her in many years and they had been in the middle of quite a heated argument before her world turned sideways. Why he felt the need to do this she was uncertain, although she couldn't say that she didn't appreciate it.

After, her first child…she still shuddered to think of everything involved in that whole affair, or rather the results of it, Henry had given her time to recover but they had since returned to their efforts to give France an heir. He also turned back to Diane while she was recovering but she was beginning to get used to that…not that she would ever let him see her acquiesce to such treatment.

As much as she enjoyed their efforts, the stress and worry had begin to return and it was rare for her to muster anything more than the minimal effort it took for her to do her duty…and Henry had noticed.

It's one of the reasons they had been arguing, one of the many.

Her abdomen cramped again and she had been so lost in thought that she cried out in pain and curled into herself. Most of the sound got caught in her throat, but Henry still stirred and started fussing over her immediately.

Unfortunately the more he moved, the more pain he caused and so eventually she grabbed his arm in a vice grip and nearly shouted. "Henry, stop!"

Thankfully he did, and after taking a moment to breath through the pain Catherine straightened out her body and sat up enough to inching backwards toward the headboard so that she could prop herself up.

Once Henry caught on to what she was doing, he helped to prop the pillows behind her so that once she reached her destination all she had to do was collapse back onto them.

Grimacing, Catherine thanked him for his efforts and then…well, then what?

She clearly would not be attending to her normal duties today, so what would she do?

"Catherine are you hungry?" Henry inquired.

Leave it to her husband to think first of food.

Shaking her head no, she looked away from him as she could not bring herself to deal with him right now.

She knew that he would be doting at least for a time.

She also knew that he would genuinely care, also for a time.

And then he would go away again.

It now happened every time they fought, it also happened about four months into her first pregnancy.

Henry had gotten up and was giving instructions to one of her ladies. She couldn't even muster the energy to care.

He continued to move about his room…she would have to talk to him about that too, leaving only briefly when one of her ladies informed him that his advisors had come to see him. He gave her the curtsy of informing her he would be back shortly, but she couldn't imagine that it would bring her much comfort anyway.

Letting out a slow controlled breaths as she began to get overwhelmed once again, Catherine tried again to figure out what she was to do now.

Leaving Henry's bed was not going to be happening thanks to her body's current state, and she had no intention to consenting to anyone else carrying her anytime soon.

The book she had been reading recently was resting on the table next to her side of the bed, as was a small tray of bread, jams, and some water. Her ladies were also near enough that she could have any of them retrieve whatever she wanted, but at the moment she couldn't even muster enough of a will to desire anything.

She wanted her baby back, that she wanted.

What would the child have been like? What would they have called the little one? Was it a boy or a girl?

Deciding that it might help to have something to call the little life other than "it" or "the child" she would come up with a name for her unborn offspring.

Considering different names in her head she finally settled on Céleste, a French name which was gender neutral and also had Roman origins. The name made reference to the heavens and to heavenly bodies. As the child spent little time here on earth it seemed fitting to be called by the place where he or she would spend far more time.

The Roman variation Caelestis also happened to be exclusively a boys name. As much as she would have loved to have a little girl, deep down she desperately hoped her firstborn would be a boy.

Then maybe Henry would put away his mistresses and love only her.

She knew it was wishful thinking, but on days like today it was all she had.

Henry came back into the room not long after and knelt beside her on the floor…would wonders never cease.

"How are you my love?

She flinched at those words, still too weak and tired for her defenses to have yet returned to full strength.

Sighing he turned his head away and waited for him to walk out again, to leave her to her misery and mourning.

She wasn't even sure she could add healing the list yet, so fresh was the wound…the loss.

Turning back towards her, he noticed the book her ladies had placed on the side of her bed 'The Decameron' by Giovanni Boccaccio.

His Italian was not the strongest in conversation, but he could at least read the language…perhaps, he thought. "Catherine, would you permit me to read to you? If you show me where you left off I could…"

"Fine Henry, if it will make you feel better," she replied.

By now he was quite used to Catherine's sharp tongue and took the comment in stride, today he would hold nothing against her. In fact even this small acquiescence as a good sign. Henry rose to retrieve the book and return to his side of the bed. Although the circumstances were in no way ideal, he did look forward to spending the whole day in bed with his wife.

Once he settled himself next to her and she indicated where to begin, his baritone voice filled the room, with tales of intrigue, of sorrow, of life lived, of life lost. It was why she had chosen to read it in the first place. Life in its fullness is so multifaceted, so difficult to capture in mere words. To have one goal in mind…tragedy, comedy, parody, was absurd. Life was not so two dimensional, and had no desire to read such a farce.

After a short time she decided to read along silently while Henry's voice brought the words to life…and occasionally death.

He couldn't read Italian as well as he liked to think he could, but at least he didn't totally butcher the language…and he was clearly trying to be comforting, perhaps even affectionate in his own way.

After a while her eyes began to close. Henry had apparently been paying more attention to her than she realized as he paused to move a bit closer and place his arm around her shoulders. Too tired to care she accepted the gesture, and at any rate the change in positions had woken her up just a bit. As painful as it was on this side of consciousness, she did not look forward to the dreams that awaited her on the other side either.

Eventually though her eyes again began to droop and she decided to give in to her body's need for rest.

Just before she fell completely into unconsciousness she heard Henry pause in his reading. He ran his hand lightly over her cheek and kissed the top of her head.

"Sleep well my love, and I will be here when you wake."


	6. The Sharing of a Burden, and of Peace

Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

"Céleste no, no please…"

Henry had allowed himself to doze off when Catherine's mumbling brought him fully back into consciousness. Once he found his bearings he realized what had awoken him…Catherine was struggling once again with a nightmare. He knew from past experience that drawing her out of these dreams could be tricky at best, and this was one he had never heard before.

She hadn't gotten violent yet so he tried waking her gently.

"Catherine," he called out, stroking her cheek to try and rouse her.

He continued until her breathing became more labored and the mumbling increased, but she still did not lash out.

Once he had managed to rouse her by diverting her with a more pleasant reality than she was experiencing in her dreams. He wasn't sure how she might react given their recent quarrel, but he reasoned that it couldn't be any worse than her current state.

He nudged her on her side and facing him so she wouldn't feel like he was assaulting her then supported her with one hand around her back, leaning in he made sure not to be too demanding as he tried to rouse her.

Her breathing evened out almost immediately, and not long after the mumbling stopped as well. Consciousness came to her in a rush but as soon as she realized what was happening she gasped and pulled away, out of his grasp. Slowly sitting up she placed her head in her hands and let her brain catch up to what was going on.

He propped himself on one elbow and watched her, waiting for her to fully reorient herself before trying to explain but she cut him off before he had the chance.

"Henry, I can't believe you would…especially after…"

"Catherine even if it incurs your wrath, I will always do whatever I need to in order to draw you from that which haunts your sleep. Though I am uncertain as to what exactly it was this time, you have never mentioned a 'Céleste' before."

Sighing deeply, Catherine laid down on her back and after a moment drew his hand over her lower abdomen.

"Céleste is the name that I gave the child. I wanted to give him or her a name, so that the child wouldn't just be an 'it'.

Smiling at her concern for the child…Céleste, he gently rubbed her stomach with his thumb from where she had placed his hand. She closed her eyes at his ministrations and placed both of her hands over his.

"I love it, a perfect name for a child such as this. I am certain that wherever he or she is, that Céleste knows of your love…knows of our love, and will for eternity."

When she didn't say anything he continued, taking a guess at what else might be plaguing her. "We will conceive Catherine, I have every confidence that it will happen…soon."

A tear rolled down her face from the flood of hormones still flowing through her body and from him speaking her deepest fear aloud. With both of his hands already occupied he leaned over and kissed away the tear from her cheek, then moved on to her forehead, and her nose. After several more pecks he eventually made it back to her mouth, and this time she responded to his caress…winding her arms around him to draw him even closer.

He moved more fully on top of her so that it was less of a strain for both of them. The dance became a give and take of sadness, fear, and morning, but also hope.

Henry eventually drew back and rolled them so that she was lying had on top of him.

Holding her close, they both tried to catch their breath and steady their thoughts. A difficult task at best when faced with such a towering foe…grief and mourning were two subjects they were both far too well acquainted with.

Instinctually he had begin to rub circles on her back, not only to comfort her but also himself. He wanted, no needed to feel like he could do something to take away her pain…even if only for a moment.

Eventually she sighed into his chest and broke the silence with just four simple words. "I love you, Henry."

He smiled, somewhat disbelieving that she had spoken to him in such a way, that he had the honor of being married to such an extraordinary woman.

"You are my greatest love, Catherine," he replied, hoping to soothe her with his words. At this moment he would do anything to protect her from any pain that might threaten, any force that might oppose her happiness.

He even thought briefly of telling Diane to pack her things and settle elsewhere, but with Bash so young…how complicated that had become. And it certainly wouldn't ease Catherine's fears any, this he knew for certain. But for the moment there was nothing he could do about that…in either case.

Their first child had also died young, but at least she had made it into this world on her own.

The days following that birth were ones Henry would rather forget. Catherine had taken it so hard that she had sent everyone away. Even the servants only remained in her presence only as long as was necessary to complete their assigned tasks.

With his best friend so recently returned to his home estates Henry felt lonely and lost. He had gotten his head nearly severed by her sharp tongue and soon he stupidly turned to his mistress instead of trying harder to ease his wife's pain. He hadn't even realized his blunder until her cold shoulder had clearly lasted long beyond her mourning of their child. It had taken Diane pushing him back into her bed for the sake of the realm to even get them willingly back in the same room, but the distance she kept from him was greater than he had ever experienced since they had met.

They had just started to get back on speaking terms, though they still fought just as often…and then this happened.

Now their second had been taken before they even knew he or she had existed.

Though he didn't share the same fear as Catherine regarding heirs, it did weigh on him. His advisors had already begun pressuring him to put her away and find a new Queen, but he couldn't. Whether or not she believed him, he did love his wife. He loved her deeply and could not fathom the idea of putting her away…or worse.

He didn't really even care if they had any heirs. Yes for the sake of the realm it was expected, but she was his wife and his partner…an equal in more ways than one. He could not imagine not having her at his side and, well those were a thoughts for another day.

At the moment all that mattered was that they had both loved and lost, and they were dealing with it together.

A sudden feeling of tiredness had begun to engulf them both and they allowed themselves to give in to the pull and fall asleep just as they were…cradling each other and taking solace in the arms of the other.

They had endured the same loss each in a different way, but they were facing that loss as one.

A united front, what a novel thought.


	7. In the Absence of an Absentee Father

Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

Catherine had watched him storm out of his father's chambers knowing he would regret it, especially so close to the end.

Francois was making yet another attempt at preparing Henry to become King, a time that was approaching faster and faster as his disease progressed. In Henry's anger, he declared that he was going on a hunting trip and would likely be gone for some time.

Francois was in his last days, the disease consuming more and more of his health, but his attempts at being both a father and a soon to be outgoing ruler were being received as well as the constant hints she had been getting regarding her continual failure to provide an heir.

Not twelve hours later, King of France took his final breath with only his daughter in law at his side.

When she knew his death was imminent she sent out a rider to find her errant husband, but either he hadn't gotten to Henry in time or Henry was too far out to return within the necessary window.

Upon returning he strode into the room, stared for a moment, and then left.

Catherine took a moment to collect herself and then rose to go after him.

She sent her ladies out to look in several spots he may have gone, but she herself headed straight to her personal quarters.

It was the last place anyone would look, and so it was the first place that she decided to look.

They had begun to fight at increasingly frequent intervals and so had been spending less and less time together, but she was counting on the possibility that he would want to avoid anyone else more than he would want to avoid her. In addition, no one would dare enter her rooms unannounced, which would control whom he might have to face.

After confirming with her lady that her husband had arrived just moments earlier, she sent her out to halt the search of the others and ordered that she and her husband should not be disturbed by anyone.

Walking cautiously into her bedroom she found Henry staring out one of her windows, head leaning against the glass and standing completely still…a rare occurrence.

Approaching him slowly she called his name mid way through her journey to try and gauge his state of mind.

"Henry?"

After a moment's pause he began to speak. "I can't even do this right…I let myself be overcome again and wasn't even here for his final moments…"

"Henry"

As his thoughts started to spiral, he turned away from the window and started pacing. "How can I ever hope to be a ruler when I can't even get a hold of myself…to be here for my own father…"

"Henry"

"We both know that I am unprepared, I was only the second son, for what little he cared for any of his children in the first place…the second, the unimportant, impulsive, child who never cared for anything, never worth anything…"

"Henry!"

Snapping his head in her direction his eyes were filled with such pain, such loss…

"Henry, he did not blame you, he did not think you were a failure, and he did have every confidence that you could rule in his place."

When he started to turn away again she grabbed his hands and forced his attention back to her.

"He loved you Henry, he understood, and he loved you!"

Pursing his lips he averted his gaze once again, trying to hold back any outward expression of what was churning in his gut…grief.

Catherine pulled him by his hands over to her chaise and drew him down to sit with her.

When he continued to look away, she drew his gaze back again with a hand cupping his cheek,

"Henry…"

Once their eyes met his gaze drew her in like a magnet holding her, holding him.

It was the last thought Catherine had before Henry leaned forward, cupped her face and captured her lips. She could have sworn that the pull holding their gaze just moments before had now transferred to their lips drawing them together so completely, as if they were not two but one.

He pushed her backwards into the cushions and his kisses became desperate, searching for something…some solace that he could not find within himself.

She knew this wasn't the answer, but she couldn't quite find it within herself to deny him this consolation. Unfortunately he was so lost in his slowly unraveling emotions that he miscalculated what needed o go where and they both ended up tumbling onto the floor…the chaise was neither built nor meant for such acrobatics.

Fortunately Henry rolled as he fell and he landed on his back to cushion her unceremonious decent.

Both panting heavily, Catherine rested her head on his chest while he stared out into space.

Once both of them had calmed a bit, she raised her head to try and look at him and intoned, "You could have planned that better."

Catherine managed such a monotone in her voice that Henry guffawed in response.

Linking his arms lightly around her back, Henry breathed deeply, "Yes well, I've never been quite as eloquent or refined as you Catherine. I am sure my father's confidence in my abilities to rule are only so high because he knows you will be at my side to help me smooth out my rough edges and take care of any messes I manage to create."

"Oh Henry," she freed one of her hands and caressed the side of his face, "he had so much more confidence in you than that, you just could never see it because your eyes have always been clouded by self-doubt and the pain he inflicted on you and your brother as a child."

"If your mother was still around I am sure she would have come and knocked your heads together, just to knock loose both of your ego's…I've been meaning to do it, but you were never in the same room long enough to give me the chance." She smiled, almost laughing as he grunted his agreement at the truth in her statement.

When his brother died he was visibly upset, but his complicated relationship with his father made this loss all the more troublesome.

She never knew her parents and so in many ways she felt a bit out of her depth here, but knew that he would soon have to address the court and that it would be best if he was released from the noose his emotions had wrangled him into.

Resting a hand lightly on his chest, Catherine tried to nudge him in the right direction.

"Henry."

Craning his neck so that he could actually look at her, Catherine chuckled as she could literally see the muscles strain in his neck.

"As comfortable as this is love, I think we need to get up."

She almost thought that she had won him over, until she saw a gleam in his eye.

"Henry…" she tried to halt whatever he has planned, but it was a little too little, a little too late as he flipped them over and began ticking her.

It was one of her few weaknesses, and he had leaned of it early on in their marriage.

"Henry, Henry…stop!"

"Darling, I think it is you that needs to stop thinking."

Pausing for a moment to let her catch her breath, he was on her shortly thereafter, reminding her of exactly how he would prefer to go about stealing her breath away instead.

"Henry…Henry," she tried again, batting at his chest to try and get him to stop.

In response he pinned her hands over her head and continued anyway.

"Henry…please…wait," Catherine barely got out between kisses.

Knowing she would not give up until she felt like he had heard her, he paused in his pursuit.

Huffing with both frustration and amusement he conceded , "Yes my love, what is it that those pretty little lips of yours have to say."

She was almost lost in the smirk that graced his lips, but she soldiered on.

"Henry, we need to talk…you need to talk…"

Rolling off her, he returned to his feet and walked back over to the window.

This time it was her turn to huff. Propping herself up on her elbows she tried again to get him to connect with her. "You know it is unkind to topple a woman down to the floor and then leave her there."

Turning to look at her, he observed her flushed features and decidedly misplaced hair.

Beautiful, charming, and passionate…how did he ever get so lucky?

Returning to her side he offered his hand, but at the last moment changed his mind and scooped her up in his arms instead.

"Henry!"

She squirmed in his grasp as he walked to her bed, "Henry this is not what I meant by talking."

But just before he set her on the beautifully decorated mattress he whispered two words into her ear that silenced her protests, "trust me."

Staring at him as he released her into the softness of the mattress, she continued to watch as he removed his jacket, belt, and boots, but halted his progress there. Then locking eyes with her he climbed in and right over her, resting right next to her, his face level with her own.

"Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable my love?" he offered.

"A wry smile making its way onto her face, she turned so that he could release the bindings of her corset through the openings in her dress. The outer garment was loosely draped and so it allowed for a bit more freedom."

Once she could breath freely, she turned again to face him and waited to see what he would do next.

Running a hand lightly through the hair at her crown of her head with one hand he sighed, staring at the beauty that was his…his partner, his love, and right now his savior.

"I have hated him for so long, for what he did to my bother and I as children…and then when we finally came back he was…changed."

"My brother and I, we struggled. We helped each other as best as we could, but we were both hurting. And then my brother died, and my father had no other sons to fill the role of Dauphin. I never felt…healed, never good enough for the burden that I would someday…now have to take on, and now here it is."

His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and she longed to kiss the pain away, but she waited…the comfort she could provide would only prolong his pain.

"I'm angry, and I'm sad, and I love him despite everything he did…"

"Oh Catherine…"

And he was finally at the point that she was waiting for, as sobs wracked his body, she cradled him as best as she could and held him through the onslaught.

They had been through their share of disagreements, but she would always be there for him. She loved him so deeply that it that terrified her.

But at the moment nothing else existed…just him and her…husband and wife. Dauphin and Dauphine, soon to be King and Queen of France.

When he had finally exhausted his tears, she took her handkerchief and wiped away what remained.

"Catherine, I…I don't know."

But this time it was she that silenced him. From her lips poured all of her love and hope for the things to come, and he responded in kind.

They eventually slowed to a stop, knowing that they would have to surrender to duty before they could continue any farther.

She leaned her forehead against his and they both smiled.

"I love you Henry."

"And I love you, Caterina."


	8. In the Shadow of a Past brought Present

Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

Henry and his men finally made it back from subduing the uprising and made their way…to a surprisingly quiet Castle.

Francis had sent word to them that there had been an attack on the Castle, but that they were all fine. As a precaution Henry had sent about a third of the men back just to be certain, though it sounded like they had it all well in hand.

Upon returning though he noted that many of the Nobles had gone back to their estates and the servants seemed particularly subdued. Henry knew that the invaders had gotten the upper hand for a time, but he didn't quite expect this. Tired as he was he decided that he needed to find out more of what exactly had happened.

His adrenaline was still running a bit high from subduing the peasants, so though he was tired he was not yet ready to retire anyway.

He found Francis in his study, likely a room where he had spent much of his last few days. Although Catherine had been named Regent in his absence, they were both in agreement that Francis needed to start taking a more active role in the day to day decisions of ruling the country. He was both certain that his wife would have no trouble including him in her deliberations and glad that his son seemed to have taken to it so readily.

Entering the room Henry first noticed the withdrawn, almost haunted look on his son's face.

Odd, he thought the Castle had been retaken and the invaders had been fought back the same night they had assumed control…but one look at his son's face told a very different story.

"Francis," he called out.

The Dauphin looked up from his contemplations, his feet propped on the desk, and welcomed him back…though even the tenor of his greeting was distracted.

Hoping to draw his son out a bit more, Henry offered a report of his own endeavors. "Crushing the rebellion was quick, it was mostly a few very loud villagers stirring everyone else up. Once they were subdued the rest of the crowds settled down and dispersed."

When he received no response except for a a grunt he prodded a bit more directly, "And what of here?"

With a look that spoke of another kind of battle Francis answered. "Well initially the Count was planning to take myself, Charles, and little Henry with him as hostages, which as I am sure you can guess did not sit well with Mother. So instead she and Mary devised a plan to distract the Count while we got everyone else out of the Castle, including all of your sons."

"Distract them how?" Henry asked, now concerned.

Lowering his feet heavily, Francis sat up ever so slightly, only to rest his elbows on his knees still staring into nothing. It looked as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "Well they had requested a banquet in their honor and at your expense before they left. The plan was that I and everyone else would escape, including Mary and her ladies while Mother kept up the facade. Unfortunately that did not quite go as planned and they could not get out. Ultimately though the ladies, all of them were victorious and all able to walk away at the end."

"When I returned the Count was lying half over Mary, and both Mother and Mary were covered in blood while her ladies looked quite disheveled. I have a feeling that the Count and his men had rather crude intentions, but they seemed to get more than they deserved as they were well dead by the time I got there. Beyond that all that I could get out of Mother was that poison was involved somehow, you will have to ask her for the specifics."

"And where are Mary and your Mother now?"

"Mary and her ladies have been rather scarce these last few days, taking care of themselves and consulting Nostradamus when necessary." Looking down a little farther he continued, "I hear Kenna," he almost spat her name, "had been staying down in the infirmary. It would seem that she had gotten a bit high and mighty as usual and so her treatment was especially unkind."

Henry rolled his eyes at his son's estimation of his newest mistress but kept silent.

Looking back up and preparing to stand Francis looked directly into his Father's eyes. "Mother has been assisting me when needed with matters of state, though I have done my best not to need her. The rest of the time she has spent almost entirely in seclusion, though she does check on the rest of your children daily without fail, and has been retiring noticeably early."

He rose fully to standing and moved to the door, but paused when he got to his Father. "She won't tell me any more than I have told you, but she is definitely not acting herself. Perhaps you can get more out of her than I could."

Francis walked the rest of the way out of the room, leaving Henry to his thoughts.

He left for less than a week, and his Castle had been turned inside out and upside down. And then there was his Queen…

For Catherine to get rattled, he knew something had definitely gone wrong.

Deciding that it would be best to ferret it out sooner than later he made his way up to her chambers and was let in with only a mild protest. Unsurprisingly he found her already retired for the night and presumably already asleep, but with the fire in her hearth well blazing and several candles still lit.

She was most definitely not fine.

Moving the rest of the way into her room and toward her bed, Henry approached slowly. She looked calm and at rest, but Catherine was a master of deception and he couldn't imagine after the Count's visit that much of her sleep had been especially restful.

Approaching slowly, he moved to sit on her bed to determine if she was indeed asleep when she sat up quickly, dagger in hand, raised and ready to strike.

She was alert enough after the initial shock that she hadn't actually moved to strike him. With a gentle hand on her wrist he lowered the weapon down to the coverlet and sighed.

"So you are doing fine then?"


	9. The Deconstruction of Falling Stars

Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

Huffing out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, Catherine took several deep, controlled breaths and looked away.

"I am as fine as I need to be Henry."

Tossing the dagger down lightly, she moved to get up. She needed distance from this man that knew her so well…too well. Stripped of all but her sleep attire she felt utterly defenseless, a feeling that she did not relish…especially in his presence.

"In fact I believe it is Kenna that you should be looking after, her being your new Mistress and all. She was quite shaken up and was treated particularly unkindly by those men."

"You are correct Catherine I could have gone to Kenna first, but I didn't. I have yet to see her at all since returning."

Pausing mid way to the fireplace, Catherine wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes. "Ahhh, so you have an piece of jewelry already set aside for her when she finds out that you returned to me first, or is it that you've tired of her and Diane is away…am I right? Always such a pleasure to be put in last place after all of your other Mistresses Henry."

This time he sighed, he knew this would not be easy. Cracking Catherine on a good day when she was in a reasonable mood could be a challenge. Getting her to open up when she had built up her walls especially high and felt cornered…he certainly would have his work cut out for him.

But he couldn't leave her like this.

One of the many similarities they both shared was…an unfortunately brutal childhood, especially when one took into consideration her money and his standing. They both should have been protected, and had both been failed, badly.

Walking over to the door he spoke to one of her ladies and requested that they should retrieve a set of his nightclothes and bring them to her rooms.

"I do not need or want a companion tonight Henry," he heard her from halfway across the room, her voice as hard as a the stone on which she stood.

Turning back to her he considered his words. "I know I have not always been there for you. I know too that I have a lot to make up for but if you will just let me I can be there to…"

"Make yourself feel better by holding me when I fall apart in your arms? No thank you Henry, I will happy forego the farce that is your affection and handle this on my own…as always."

Sighing as his shoulders dropped…so home from one battle and onto another.

He unfortunately knew how this played out in both scenarios. Either she would let this out now, or it would haunt her for months.

The last time she had been in this state was when Francis's hunting party became lost in the woods and they found out from a servant returning for assistance that he was gravely injured. That time he didn't go to her and he heard from her servants that she was restless and hardly slept for months. She had gotten so ragged that he had forced her take a week at one of the royal Chateau's. At first he had been too embarrassed to go to her and offer his help. Then by the time he had worked up his courage she refused to let him.

When they were younger and he had chosen to help her work through whatever had upset her, he had at times literally been left him with scars but she would recover within a week.

Instead of approaching her directly, Henry walked around and sat on her chaise. He had to wait for his clothes anyway, and he wanted to see if he could coax it out of her gently.

Tonight would go one of two ways. Either he would be able to wait her out and have her willingly accept his help, or he would have to wind her up until she simply fell apart.

The first rarely ever happened…in fact the last time he remembered her willingly confiding in him was at least fifteen years ago. They had recently reconciled and then he had gone and gotten himself injured in a minor border skirmish. One late evening Henry had woken up long before he should have, and he found her in a such a state that he finally ordered her over to his bed…and she complied. He held her until the physicians returned to check on him the next day, and felt honored that she had allowed him.

The second would not be pretty, but now that she knew he had returned from his journey she would close herself off all the more. If he didn't do this tonight, she would bury it so deep that no one would be able to find it…and than never helped. They may not get along well anymore, but he would never choose to set her on a path that would lead to a month or more of suffering when he could do something about it.

Giving Catherine the time to take the first option was tedious and mentally exhausting, but it would be the least traumatizing for both of them. In the mean time he took a moment to shed his jacket and shoulder chains. When his clothes were delivered, however Catherine's lady accidentally knocked over a vase and the look in Catherine's eye told him everything he needed to know…

As she made her way over to the trembling girl and began to pass right in front of Henry, he stood and blocked her way, firmly grasping both of her upper arms.

"Thank you, you may take your leave," Henry interrupted, choosing both to save the girl a serious tongue lashing as well as to aggravate Catherine more, and it worked.

"Henry! What are you doing?! If I don't maintain a proper sense of authority with these new girls they will never…"

"Come back again? Yes that's all we need Catherine, more rumors about your hospitality towards the servants."

"My hospitality is my own concern Henry," she spat back, shaking him from her arms. "You have no right to tell me how to manage my own staff any more than you have to come barging in here without so much as the curtesy to ask of I even want you here. How dare you!"

By this time she had started to pace, arms crossed in front of her, her words coming fiercer and faster.

Henry tuned out the rest of her rant. He knew she would either end up belittling him, or spouting off nonsense about meaningless things. Besides if she realized he was not listening, it would get her even more upset and aid in his efforts anyway.

"Henry, Henry!"

Almost there, he thought.

When she came marching over to him he prepared himself for what was to come, likely which would include several bruises.

As she approached he waited until she was about a foot and a half away before reaching down, grabbing her just under her hips, and hoisting her into the air. "Henry put me down!" Her volume ratcheted up another notch, her fists pounded his shoulders, and she would have been kicking him even harder if she wasn't so afraid he might drop her. He carried her over to the bed to do as she requested, though he knew for certain that it was not her intent.

"Yes dear," he intoned just before he dropped her backwards on the mattress, "whatever you say dear."

It took a moment for Catherine to gather her senses, but in that same span Henry took advantage of her momentary pause to climb in after her, plant his hand on either side of her head and begin to kiss her soundly.

Still breathless from her previous exertion, Catherine didn't move for a few moments as her brain worked to catch up to what was happening. Once it did though she tried to pull away and began batting at his chest to further make her point.

Giving her a short reprieve, Henry pulled away for a few breaths of which Catherine took full advantage and continued where she had left off.

Henry however had other plans and lowered his head once again to continue in his pursuit.

This time he dropped several shorter kisses on her lips and when she stopped swatting at his chest started dropping kisses all over her face instead.

Her breath was coming in heavy pants now and he knew the tears would follow soon after.

Just as he had predicted he soon tasted the salty wetness of her tears as they began to flow. First silently, then in conjunction with her gasps, and finally her whole body was heaving with the sobs.

He rolled them both on their sides and coaxed her to curl up into his long form, holding her to him and whispering words of comfort into her hair.

"It's alright Catherine, I'm here and you are not alone. I want to help you through this, let me help you, let me be here for you."

Eventually her tears slowed and then stopped. She continued to lay in his arms as he stroked a hand up and down her back. He hated to break the moment, but he knew she would also have to talk about whatever was bothering her, or his job would only be half done.

"What happened Catherine?"

Sighing and closing her eyes she reported something much like what she probably told her Francis, "I made sure that Francis and the boys got out, Francis made sure everyone else out, Olivia did not do her job properly, I took care of the Count's men, and Mary took care of the Count."

He found one of her hands and brought it to his heart, "I already talked to Francis and have a pretty good idea of everything up until Mary and her ladies left to meet with the others. How did Count Vincent and his men die? Why is Kenna now convalescing in the infirmary, and what happened that it affected you so strongly…death alone, especially the death of an enemy is not enough to cause this.

Leaving her hand on his heart he stroked her face, "Catherine…"

Taking another moment to collect her thoughts she continued, "I poisoned the gold in an attempt to disarm the men without any violence, but when Mary and her ladies returned and the men became impatient I offered the girls to them to stall for time while the poison took effect. I didn't realize how much it would effect me, to have it happen all over, right in front of me. I eventually stopped them but…"

She tried to pull away, but Henry wouldn't let her. "And how did you come to have so much blood on you?"

"All of the men took the gold, except the Count. He had been…engaging Mary not far from me, but when he realized what I had done he grabbed his dagger and was coming after me. Mary stabbed him in the throat with a fork and he bled out."

"Mary was less than thrilled about my offer to the Count, but based on several snippets of conversations I had with her and her ladies…she knows, or at least she knows enough about.…"

She trailed off into silence, not even able to finish her sentence.

Pulling her into his chest, Henry held his wife, and for the first time in a very long time, she let him.

They both had so much blood on their hands, so much regret for past actions. But he knew that Catherine would recover, she always did.

Once her breathing had evened out and he was certain she was asleep, Henry slowly extradited himself from her grasp and changed out of his day clothes…she would not have appreciated him sleeping in her bed with his dirty boots. Then he settled back in bed with his wife.

Bu this point she had moved in her sleep and was facing away from him, so he climbed in behind her and enclosed himself around her.

His cunning, resourceful, wife had once again had astounded him away with her resourcefulness.

Henry fell asleep dreaming of simpler days when they were happy and united. If only he could manage the strength to bring them there once again.

For the moment through he just relished the feeling of her in his arms, breathed in her scent and fell asleep.

AN: Bonus points for anyone who recognizes the chapter title and can name the show :)


	10. In the Space that Remains, a New Love

Disclaimer: I neither own Reign, nor profit from this story.

Catherine collapsed at hearing the words of the physician.

She had not only lost her babies, but it was her temperamental Claude that was to blame.

The grief alone nearly stole the breath right out of her.

She couldn't fathom ever having the strength to get up again, so consumed was she that she barely felt the hands that came to rest on her shoulders.

Henry.

He must have heard and come down to see for himself. She turned and buried herself in his chest, too consumed to care what this might mean to him…what he might think of her.

Henry was fickle, and lately had an eye for the twin's nanny. She knew this well, but for once didn't care. She was hurting and he was the only one she had to share her grief. He gathered her in his arms and held her as she cried, eventually dropping all the way down to the floor and pulling her into his lap.

They must have stayed there for hours, even after she had stopped crying.

Henry's attentiveness to their children was at best inconsistent, but he had come to her when Louie died as well, held her and cried with her.

The doctor had ducked out of the room not long after the king came in and so Catherine kept the revelation of what Claude had done to herself. There was no reason to cause more pain, no way to undo what had already been done.

"Catherine," Henry eventually spoke into her hair.

She couldn't move, couldn't even properly think. Her babies…oh her babies.

"Catherine we need to get up."

Turning her head to look at him she tried to find some of whatever Henry had, to find some strength within him to even just move.

What she saw brought the tears fresh to her eyes…he too had been crying, and he almost never cried. He certainly never allowed himself the luxury in this public a space, ever the strong, proud, untouchable ruler.

She brought her hand up to his face to trace the tear marks down his cheeks.

"Stay with me Henry."

Her voice was no louder than a whisper as she pleaded with him, nearly bringing him to tears again at the hurt, the pain that he heard in her voice.

Nodding, he helped her to rise off of him before following himself. He put her arm around her shoulders and held her close as they walked back to her rooms. Once there he asked one of her ladies to bring him his nightwear but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"I need to feel you close Henry, nothing between us, nothing…"

As her breaths began to shorten and quicken, he pulled her to him. Holding her close, trying to hold her together with only the strength of his touch.

Eventually she calmed and led the way to her bed.

They took their turns removing articles of clothing and then climbing in, Henry first then Catherine. Each clinging to the other for strength, for comfort. Not a word passed between them, but it was the closest they had really been in many months.

Henry stroked her hair until she fell asleep. She was so exhausted that though her sleep was fitful she found it quickly.

He on the other hand had become wracked by guilt which kept him up far later.

He had been seducing the children's nanny, the guardian of his two young daughter. Who knows what might have happened if the girl had been there, to protect them, to go and find help if needed.

He would have to be sure that she was kept silent…moved far away form court.

Another one of his failures. As if he hadn't failed the woman in his arms enough for one lifetime.

She had always been the strong one, level headed and logical.

It was why he ran from her so often, ran to Diane and his so called 'indulgences'. Catherine was an all encompassing, fully embracing force. On a good day her power, her confidence scared him. When she truly wanted to be terrifying, he was sure even the heavens shook resonating the very essence of Catherine de Medici.

Eventually joining her in sleep, Henry vowed to do better, vowed to be better.

-/-/-/-/-

Catherine woke up to….a whole lot of Henry.

Not since she was last pregnant had he stayed the night.

And then it hit her fresh, the pain of the last day….the twins.

Tired of crying, of mourning…of life, she buried herself further into his chest to try and quell the tears. To keep out the new horrors of the day at bay.

The court would need answers. An explanation as to why the twins were now dead.

As distraught as she was, she couldn't fathom telling the truth. Her poor little Claude…she couldn't imagine any child bearing so much hatred to knowingly do such a thing.

She would say that the twins had been sick with fever, that they were too young…they were.

They were too young to die,

But there was nothing to do now but protect the rest of her family.

The pregnancy had been hard. She no longer young, and carrying twins at her age was ever a concern.

In some ways she loved them more than any of her children, except for maybe Francis.

Henry had even been attentive for much of her pregnancy. It had been a surprise as she was nearing the age where she would no longer be able to bear children, and they certainly were no longer trying. With three strong young boys the Valois line was as secure as they could make it.

And then the girls had come. Her two young treasures.

She loved all of her children, but in many ways she cherished the girls in a way she never could for the boys.

It was not easy being a woman and living in these times. Her own parents had not been able to protect her from the horrors of her childhood, but she swore that she would protect her own daughters from that same fate. From the pain of all that she could…possibly even the pain of love.

It was true that she desired each of her children to find love in their lives, to know of its pleasure…but knew that it also brought pain.

She knew this all too well.

Elisabeth would soon be of marrying age and she had convinced Henry to permit her to make a political match for their daughter. She was smart and strong like her mother. She would find her own way, her own happiness.

Just then Henry began to wake.

As he began to move, waking his body a little at a time his face moved against hear hair and realization hit him like a brick. Pulling Catherine even closer he took a moment to calm his rushing thoughts.

His fault.

Her pain.

Their pain.

Could he ever find forgiveness for such an act?

"Henry?"

Looking down and finding her eyes, Henry stared into her hazel depths and his thoughts fled like a hound on a hunt.

His wife, his wife was in his arms, real whole. They were whole…together.

"I love you."

"Henry you don't have to…"

"Catherine wait. I know I haven't...I've never been very good at…"

He paused to try and collect his fleeting thoughts.

"You are so beautiful, and so strong, and so often I feel incredibly inadequate that I…"

Placing her hand on his chest, Catherine tried to calm him, to release him from whatever burden he seemed to feel on her behalf.

As sweet as it was, this was not about them. And at any rate, it would make little difference.

"Henry you don't need to do this, even just you being here has made the pain a little easier."

He tried once more to put his thoughts into words, only to be interrupted once again.

"Henry, we really don't have time for this now. We must both get up and…face our court. Walk with me later, in the gardens?" She offered an olive leaf to try and ease his distress.

Smiling softly at her ability to simplify the situation, Henry nodded his agreement, but waited for her to get up and begin her morning routine before he rose to redress. When he finally tore his gaze from her however, he realized that she was ahead of him once again.

At the end of her bed one of her ladies had laid a folded set of linens that he now realized as his clothes for the day along with the few other supplies he used to ready himself in the mornings

Chuckling to himself be started to ask where he should change and the answer was already half way out of her mouth. She was sitting at her vanity, facing an entirely different direction and she still knew what he needed.

Putting off the inevitable for just a few more moment, he walked over to her seated form, placed his hards on her shoulders and kissed to the top of her head.

"You really are amazing."

She smiled for a moment, before her memories drew her back to the last time he had called her that.

She had just birthed the children and was a sweaty mess when Henry barged in against the requests of the physicians, citing his vast experience with his wife's many birth givings. This had been the only pregnancy where he had been attentive throughout almost the whole nine months, and she welcomed his gesture despite her state of disarray.

Kissing her soundly, he held her gaze once he withdrew and lifted her spirits just a little more.

He helped to prop her up when they brought over the twins, and they each held a tiny bundle. Finally tearing his eyes away from the little girl in his arms he looked to his wife, his beautiful wife who had given him so much.

She finally looked up and caught his gaze, blushing at his scrutiny.

"You are amazing," he intoned.

Smiling she returned her gaze to their new heirs, the absolute evidence of his continued love for her, mistresses and all.

-/-/-/-/-

Over the next few weeks the grieving parents took time for each other daily.

Catherine knew it wouldn't last, but she cherished the affection for what it was.

Her marriage had been reduced to a series of moments, tucked away for the precious gifts that they were. She was too jaded now to expect anything more, but she cherished them while she could.

She held them close on the darkest of nights.

Walking in the garden alongside of him she was reminded of their younger selves, free from the weight of the country, of producing heirs, from the safety and survival of so many souls.

It was just the two of them. Both hopeful of a brighter future, both seeking a release from the pain of loss.

In some ways it was a greater degree of intimacy than they had ever experienced.

Sometimes he held her hand or cradled her elbow. Sometimes they let their arms swing freely, fingers brushing as they moved freely.

They walked together barely passing a word between them.

Words led to arguments, and neither had the desire nor the strength.

And in the absence of words they found peace.

Peace with each other, peace with their pain. A peace for which the spoken word seemed inadequate to express.

And with it they were content.


End file.
